Thursday, May 20, 2010

45*21

on the edge of this landscape
blackness
we want friends
and they gladly come
to the life charade
and then sometimes
deeper trends are felt
this song never ends
nor do any
why sometimes structure over feel
and all that seems great is felt
you are a Bolshevik snake
in a wilderness of running lawn mowers
you don't care for it
and then your head wants to split
well, there are no seams
only screens
Take him away from the screen
light penetrates
is captured
insects

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